For Every Action
by Gina King
Summary: ... there's an equal and opposite reaction. A postseason4finale encounter between Rory & Lindsey. [onepart]


**Title: For Every Action **– There's an equal and opposite reaction.

**Rating: PG-13 **- There's some swearing. I have no idea what rating corresponds to which words and in which frequency...

**Author's Note: **I wrote this back at the beginning of summer, but was never satisfied enough to post it. Now, I'm just bored. ;) Not that I don't sympathise with Rory's situation (being in one quite similar a mere week before the finale aired, it was creepy to say the least when I saw the episode and realized the parallels) but I thought it would be interesting to explore a scenario where Rory had to deal with the consequences of her actions. After all, the dude was married, man. And I never did like Dean. Or the way they twisted his plotline; it was so contrived. But anyway. I'm rambling.

**Disclaimer:** Rory, Dean, Emily and Lindsey are all fictional characters and do not belong to me. They belong, rather, to their insane little world somewhere in Connecticut.

The door swung closed with the ringing of a bell as Rory stepped out of Luke's Diner. She paused on the stoop and attempted to survey the town with an air of unconcerned confidence; most of her effort, however, went toward calming the twisting of her insides. Stepping down onto the sidewalk and heading for the bridge, she reflected that after two days one would imagine that the sick gnawing feeling in her stomach would at least fade. Instead, she was becoming adept at ignoring it, as she ignored most of her problems. This one, of course, never completely faded. Perhaps the new Atwood she was reading would help.

Dean hadn't called. (That was a particularly nauseating tug. She doubted even the most accomplished Girl Scout could manage the knot her intestines were in). Rory wasn't sure whether or not she wanted him to, anyway. She certainly didn't know what she'd say to him and she had no idea what he expected from the situation, or what conclusions he'd drawn from her actions. On the other hand, she felt a bit like the two-dollar whore her mother joked about. Sure, there had been the one-line email ("I'm working on it.") late last night, but it was after lunch on Sunday and despite the fact that he still loved her and she hadn't a clue where she stood, she was feeling a bit used.

And then on top of it all was the tiny voice that whispered, _But didn't you use him, too?_

Rory stopped and shook her head vigorously, trying to clear out the tangled web of intentions she was perpetually weaving for them. Them. Her and Dean? Was there a her and Dean? Did she want a her and Dean? Had the reasons she'd broken up with him before suddenly vanished? _Well Jess _has _left town..._

Another head shake. Now that was not a pleasant line of thought. Had she simply been lonely? Desperate, even? She gritted her teeth angrily, fighting the tears. _If only the bastard would pick up the damn phone and—_RING-RING! RING-RING!

Fumbling for her cell, Rory dropped her bag and her book—her stomach dropped itself, thankyouverymuch—, answering breathlessly. "Hello?"

"Rory. It's me. Have you decided about Europe yet? Booking flights this time of year is simply dreadful, all the first class seats fill up and then you're forced to sit in coach with a hairy, overweight man named Jeb practically in your lap while the child behind you performs Riverdance on your seat and the flight attendants serve the mystery meat of the week for dinner."

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Rory set to picking up her belongings. "Grandma, hi. Um, I haven't really—"

"I have seats for us on Friday, flying directly into Lisbon, tentatively of course. Did you and your mother visit Portugal last summer? Anyway. We can always get that changed. I was thinking we could do the major cities..." As Emily prattled on, Rory continued toward the bridge, trying to ignore the disappointment that welled inside her every time the ringing of her phone yielded yet another non-call from Dean. "And if we have time, we can even take a short cruise along the Mediterranean!"

Trying not to sigh, Rory entered the clearing where Jess had approached her that night, nearly two years ago. Had it really been that long? "Grandma, I haven't really had a chance to think about it or talk to Mom about it yet. There are these two summer jobs I was looking at and—oh, sorry." Rory said suddenly to the blonde figure she had finally noticed, sitting on the bridge, her legs dangling over the water.

"Rory? What is it, Rory?"

"Oh, nothing Grandma, I was just..." Her voice faded as Lindsey stood and started to walk toward her. "Hey, Grandma, can I call you back later?"

"Okay, but let me know as soon as—" Emily's voice was cut off as Rory snapped her phone shut. Lindsey was now a few metres away.

"Uh, hi... Lindsey..." Rory stammered, trying not to squirm. The other girl's eyes were red-rimmed but the expression on her face was anything but melancholy.

"You fucking _bitch_." The slap took Rory by surprise, and she staggered. No one had ever hit her before. "You little _slut_!" The next slap was even harder; she could feel the imprint of Lindsey's palm as it embossed itself on her cheek. Her belongings had gone flying, and she struggled to stand up straight. The metallic taste of blood made itself known to her tongue as she used it to gently prod at the inside of her mouth.

"Lindsey, look, I—"

"Shut the _fuck_ up!" This time, a two-handed shove sent Rory stumbling into the tree behind her, and she landed on its roots, beneath Lindsey's furious glare. "All you do is talk. You think that because you're smart and you go to a fancy school and you're the town princess that you can get away with anything."

"Lindsey, I never—"

"Shut up!" This time, she nearly screamed the words. "I love him, Rory. Do you understand that? I love him! I'm not the one who broke his heart, I'm the one who _married_ him!" There were tears streaming down Lindsey's face, and Rory kept her mouth shut partly out of fear—blood was pooling in her mouth and the bruises on her face and butt were starting to ache—but mostly because she felt she deserved this. "I don't care if he still loves you. _I don't care_! I love him, I married him, he married _me_. He's _my_ husband! You're nothing, you mean nothing, you're just the perfect little _slut_ whose name he mumbles when he's drunk!" Rory flinched, and Lindsey's voice fell to a whisper as she crumbled to the grass, weeping. "I married him, I... married... him..."

Staring at the broken girl in front of her, Rory had never felt so terrible in her life. Not the time she'd skipped school to read, nor the time the deer had hit her car, not even when she'd first kissed Jess at Sookie's wedding or Dean had dumped her in front of the whole town or it sank in that she'd slept with another woman's husband. Maybe that last was finally happening.

Taking a deep breath, she made an attempt. "Lindsey, I... I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, I just... I wanted to help him. He was so sad, and lost, and I... " Rory started crying, herself, at that point.

"Bullshit." Lindsey spat. Trying to wipe her tears away, Rory looked up. "You wanted him, and you took him without thinking of a single person besides yourself. You probably haven't thought about me once, either." She stood, and continued in a disparaging tone. "It's what you've always done. You were still with him when anyone with eyes could see yours were always on Jess. You never wanted to let him go, either, you liked having your safety net, your dependable Dean. He's my dependable Dean now, Rory. Or at least he was until you _fucked_ him." Rory flinched again. "But that doesn't mean he's yours again. He's still wearing my ring. The ring I gave him when he promised to be there with me forever. I bet you don't even love him. I bet if he were to walk up to you right now and ask you to marry him, you'd run as far away as possible." Averting her gaze, Rory tried to ignore the truth of the statement. Lindsey simply looked at her in disgust.

Straightening her clothes, Lindsey continued emotionlessly. "I used to feel guilty for asking Dean not to see you. I won't ask him anymore. But I'm warning you: if you ever so much as look at either of us again, I will hold that tiny little body of yours under water"—she pointed at the pond—"until it stops twitching. Of course," she added, "you already got what you wanted, so I can't imagine you'll be opening your window for him anytime soon." She started to turn away, then paused, glancing back at Rory. "You might not think I'm good for him, or right for him. But at least I love him."

Rory didn't move from the foot of the tree for a long time after Lindsey left. The sunlight shining through its spring leaves danced a pattern across the grass, but she barely noticed. Townsfolk crossed the bridge now and then, oblivious to her presence off at the side, but she didn't notice them, either. Hours—or day or years—later, she heard her phone ringing faintly and crawled painfully on hands and knees in its direction until she found it hidden in the wild grass.

"Hello?"

"Rory, what happened? Are you alright? What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing Grandma. I'm fine, just, um..." She trailed off, for once unable to grasp an adequate excuse.

"Well, if you say so," Emily responded doubtfully.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, Rory plunged ahead. "So, Grandma, is that flight still available? Mom and I never did make it to Portugal."


End file.
